


Special Delivery

by Daegaer



Series: For Art's Sake [23]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: 1920s, Art, Artists, Food, Gift Giving, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:15:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford knows the way to a man's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Special Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Picture inspiration challenge in the summer 2014 Weiss vs Saiyuki battle.

 

 

Schuldig circles the box with deep suspicion, as if I may have packed it with something horrific. He looks from it to my face, a scowl warring with childish interest in his expression.

"What the fuck's this?"

"Something I had delivered," I say, off-hand. "I wasn't really sure what to get, and to be honest, the catalogue was a little difficult to read in places, but I did my best."

He really is a master of the sceptical glance, I think.

"What catalogue?"

"It was rather a speciality establishment."

He laughs very coarsely. "Crawford! What have you been up to behind my back?" He examines the box again, turning it over, and finds an address. "Speciality? This shop's in Golders Green, this is a Jewish name – what _sort_ of speciality?"

"Import."

He can stand it no longer, and grabs a pair of scissors to cut the twine; a few seconds later the box is open and he is digging through straw. I am rewarded with his open-mouthed astonishment as he takes out the jars and tins labeled in German, and, in some cases, Yiddish. He grins widely as he takes each out and holds one jar up excitedly, tapping the label.

"This! I ate this at my aunt's house!"

"It is jam, isn't it?" I ask, rather anxiously.

"Of course it is, _Strawberry Jam_ , can't you read?"

I don't point out that the label isn't in English, just smile and say, "Did you often visit your aunt?"

"Just once," Schuldig says, digging back in the box. "I was six and Er- my brother had just turned eleven. Our parents wanted us to know our cousins." He stops suddenly, for he has said more about his family than he has ever said before, and scowls at the jam as if it has betrayed him. Then he finds the schnapps and his good humour is restored.

"There used to be a lot of shops where you could buy things like this," he says, sitting back on his heels. "Now you've got to know where you're going and spend a lot of time looking for what you want. I haven't seen some of these things for _years_. Why did you _bother?_ "

"I thought it might make you happy," I say, for it seems that I am making a habit of saying ridiculous things to him.

He looks at me in a way that feels as if he is staring through my eyes right into my mind, and then he smiles. I feel sorry I didn't order twice as much, to make him smile like that for longer.

"When you know what will make you happy," he says, "tell me. I won't say no."

"This is perfectly fine," I say, sitting in my room, surrounded by jars, and packing straw and warmed through by what I know is his genuine smile of pleasure.

He laughs at me, of course, but it is kind, not mocking at all.


End file.
